Deal Before Dying
by fluffily
Summary: Izaya's always known that Shizuo isn't someone he can hope to kill, but the whole thing is a bit more complicated than he had anticipated. (trope bingo fill, prompt: "immortality/reincarnation," Shizaya)


**And - yes, another trope_bingo fic. The prompt was "immortality/reincarnation," and I chose to focus on immortality. (God, this was fun to write.) I do not own Durarara!**

* * *

Izaya's known all along that Shizuo isn't someone he can kill. That's why he plays with him, why he provokes him into doing dangerous and violent things. He wants others to see that side of the blonde – the side that destroys without reason, that is ruled by the basest instinct and rage. It's an ugly thing, after all. Izaya loves humans and all their wild emotions, but he can read them because they aren't beasts. There is always rationality in even the unlikeliest things that others do.

Shizuo is just hard to predict.

Izaya's seen plenty of extraordinary things as an informant, and – true to his words to Ryuugamine Mikado – those things have quickly and easily become his normal. He doesn't want 'normal' any more than the kid does, though, so he follows his own advice. He evolves, makes every day at least as exciting as the last and fills his future with fun and extraordinary things. Of course, the manipulation of a city like Ikebukuro requires one to wait at times. It's fine – anticipation is its own form of excitement, and Shizuo is always good for a few laughs when the informant has nothing else to do.

But he's also a burden on Izaya, always there to interfere with even the simplest of plans. Izaya never knows where the blonde might show up, so he can't compensate for it most of the time. It's frustrating.

And that's why he resolves, finally, to take his little games with the blonde a bit more seriously. Impossible, yes, but even that can sometimes be achieved with the proper amount of effort. He's confident, therefore, that he can make up for the blonde's durability by taking advantage of his own intellect. He'll outthink Shizuo – not because the blonde is stupid, but because Izaya is several steps ahead of most people, including his nemesis.

It works, after quite a lot of hassle, and Izaya has the satisfaction of staring down at the blonde as blood seeps from numerous bullet wounds and bruises climb like vines up his arms. His eyes are still open, though, still fiery with resentment as he glares up at Izaya. It's better this way – more of that sought-after fun lies in Shizuo knowing that his death is Izaya's fault.

And then the blood slows before his eyes, stops filling a pool around Shizuo's limp form. The blonde blinks and breathes a sigh of relief as the pain recedes slightly. He forces himself into a sitting position and looks up at Izaya with his chocolate-brown eyes all alight with curiosity. "You suddenly get serious, or something?" he asks, and Izaya blinks stupidly at the question. Where, he wonders, has the anger of moments ago gone so suddenly?

Shizuo sighs when Izaya fails to break the silence, drags himself to his feet and leans against the wall for support. Izaya finally speaks up then. "Shizu-chan… Come on, didn't even one of those land in your heart? A lung? I don't believe that even you should still be able to stand."

"Sorry to disappoint," Shizuo huffs. "Let me borrow your cell for a minute."

Inexplicably, Izaya reaches into his pocket and passes one of his many phones to the blonde. He might as well, he supposes, because even Heiwajima Shizuo won't last much longer like this. He could be calling the police, but Izaya doubts it. Shizuo doesn't give up that easily – actually, he doesn't back down even when it would be better for him if he did. He'll probably call a hospital or something.

Izaya's guess is close, and Shizuo has a brief conversation with Shinra that ends in a promise that he'll wait here for a ride from Celty. He sounds quite casual, though, and that's just infuriating. The blonde could at least try to sound a little urgent, like he's still bleeding out and covered in wounds, but he's totally at ease. "Don't you care if you die?" Izaya asks, accepting the phone – now smeared with red – when the blonde passes it to him.

"I'm not gonna die," Shizuo sighs as he settles himself against the brick wall of the alley.

"You sound pretty sure of that," and Izaya sits down next to the blonde. "You really are docile now, though, Shizu-chan. Sure it's not because you're about to kick it?"

Shizuo snorts and shakes his head. "You went way too far, flea." But he doesn't react with his usual belligerence. It's honestly disappointing, but Izaya likes unexpected things enough that he can maybe even find enjoyment in them if they're coming from Shizuo.

"I really wanted you to die this time. Maybe I should just finish the job before Celty-san gets here," and he holds his switchblade to the blonde's throat. Shizuo closes his eyes, then, and exhales slowly. Izaya notices that his hands are balled into fists, that he's shaking slightly, and he smirks. "So you were scared of dying, after all," he concludes, and Shizuo laughs lightly.

"You're pathetic," the blonde sighs, and Izaya frowns at the insult. "Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better."

Ah, so he's just holding his anger back. How very admirable of the temperamental monster. "Then you must be suicidal. I'll do it, you know."

"I doubt it, Izaya." Shizuo's eyes are open again, and his head is turned slightly so that he can look directly at the informant. Izaya draws his knife away from the blonde, eyes wide.

"You've got me there," he says with a grin that is meant to hide his bewilderment. "I don't like the thought of killing you too gracelessly, after all."

"You call _this_ graceful?" Shizuo gestures at his ruined uniform. The sleeves of his dress shirt have been torn clean off, and bruises have darkened nearly all of his exposed skin. He pulls back the front of his vest so that Izaya can see where several bullets have entered his body.

"Hold on… Shizu-chan, those are all vital spots…" Izaya shifts without thinking so that he's kneeling in front of the blonde. He looks up to Shizuo's face and doesn't even try to hide his wonder. He feels like laughing, but the blonde's eyes are dark with pain and he holds his amusement in check.

"Really? Feels like it," Shizuo grunts at last. His gaze is fixed on Izaya's, and the informant finds that he can't move away despite the sudden thrill of danger that runs up his spine. Shizuo's expression is too apathetic. It feels like he's really looking down at the informant, like he can suddenly see right through him. "What's the matter, Izaya-kun? You look a little surprised."

"Tch. Don't mock me, Shizu-chan. I'm the one in the better position, here." But Izaya's voice doesn't have the same confidence it did a few moments ago.

Shizuo sighs inaudibly and offers the informant a hand. "You're actually trembling, you bastard," he murmurs, and Izaya shakes his head nervously. "Don't you always call me a monster? I wouldn't have expected something like this to surprise you so much."

"Has it always been like this?" Izaya demands, ignoring the blonde's outstretched hand. What the hell is he supposed to do with it, anyway?

"No…" Shizuo grins. The expression is a bit strained, but he's seriously amused. "It started with being able to lift things; the trade-off was a bad temper. I used to get hurt all the time back when I was a kid, you know. I probably should have died several times."

"It's such a shame that you didn't," Izaya pouts. The mood between them has lightened, and the informant finds a comfortable position leaning into Shizuo's side against the wall. The blonde stiffens a bit, but doesn't protest. What is it – this thing between them? Shared wonder, a common sense of incredulity, or some kind of appreciation for the irony of it all? Izaya's curiosity has never been sparked this much before – at least, that's how he feels right now.

Shizuo doesn't appear to feel the need to overthink it. It's all simple fact to him, something that stands as it is and will have whatever effects it chooses. "I was lucky. But after a while I didn't get hurt as much, either. Shinra and I both assumed that my body was just getting used to all the stress I put on it, but… I don't know, that doesn't explain a lot of things. After a while, I just figured… I guess I'm really not a human, after all."

"Nothing kills you, huh?" Izaya says it bluntly, and Shizuo – gallingly – simply nods in response. "I see," Izaya breathes. "I envy you, then, Shizu-chan. Death's always on my list of things that should be avoided at all costs."

"No surprise there," Shizuo laughs. "You're going to hell, for sure, you know." He pauses briefly, and Izaya says nothing to break the silence. Then, Shizuo adds, slowly, "Things like this don't kill me, but I don't know that I'm actually… immortal, or anything."

"Right… You and I do still look about the same age, after all…"

"Mm," Shizuo agrees, "and this still hurts like a bitch. Do me a favor, flea."

"Maybe," Izaya says, flatly, and Shizuo laughs.

"Next time, let's fight fair."

Celty's motorcycle echoes melancholically from a distance, and Izaya decides to do one more impossible thing before Shizuo has a chance to leave. He kisses him – just his cheek – licks away a little of the blood that has accumulated there, and says, "You have an unfair advantage, though, Shizu-chan. I'm the only one who can cut you in a one-on-one fight, but what's the point if just that won't do anything?" He'd really like to find out if Shizuo's condition is contagious, but that perhaps isn't the wisest thing to say now, and Shizuo's unlikely to know or care. He might, in time, but that's not so crucial if Izaya can explore this new normal of his for a while longer.

Shizuo's face grows flushed, and he stammers, "I-I won't fight as seriously from now on, if that's wh-what you…" He swallows hard, and Izaya can feel the blonde's heart pounding obstinately in his chest. "Yakuza, color gangs… I don't like violence, you know. If you want to fight, let's do it one-on-one. That, I'm – I'm okay with."

How very like Shizuo, Izaya thinks, to get so flustered by such a trivial little action. Satisfied, the informant smirks and stands to leave.

"Deal."


End file.
